


Strange, Isn't It?

by SimplyShelbs16



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShelbs16/pseuds/SimplyShelbs16
Summary: The same night of the Sherrinford incident, Sherlock convinces himself that everyone's lives would be better off had he not been born. Mary, now a guardian angel, makes him see the error of his thoughts. Post-TFP. Based on the concept of the movie It's a Wonderful Life.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have been so excited to share this with y'all, cause It's a Wonderful Life is my fave Christmas movie of all time! I'm just scared that I haven't done it justice. So, please be gentle with your comments if you don't end up liking it.

_Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he? -Clarence, It's a Wonderful Life_

After all that had transpired that night, Sherlock was in a dark place. His secret sister had psychosis, John almost drowned not long after Mary died, Mycroft could have been shot by his hand, and Molly, the woman he now realized he loved, had her heart ripped out of her chest all because of him. He had been so distracted by the emotional turmoil of the phone call that he hadn’t realized that Molly was, in fact, with child.

He didn’t speak during the helicopter ride back to London. All he kept thinking about was how better off everyone would be if he didn’t exist. Victor would still be alive. Eurus wouldn’t have been trapped in a prison like Sherrinford. Mycroft wouldn’t have to cover his stupid little brother’s mistakes. Rosie would still have her mother. John, Greg and Mrs. Hudson would’ve never been in danger at Moriarty’s hand. Hell, Moriarty wouldn’t even have had an adversary. Molly wouldn’t be in so much pain right now. She would have been married to Tom and had children.

Sure, they had missed him when he faked his death, but would they miss him now after all the mistakes he’s made? After all the pain he put them through? He felt that his entire life had been a mistake. They were better off without him.

Mary watched over her Baker Street boys as always. John was a bit shaken, but fine all in all. Sherlock, on the other hand, had thoughts venturing into dark crevices of his mind. Didn’t he know how wrong he was? Sherlock had saved John for her, but now she needed to return the favor and save Sherlock from himself.


	2. Saving Sherlock

“Sherlock’s had a hard life, but he always chooses to use his gifts for good,” another angel told Mary.

“Indeed he has,” she replied. “Of course, he has his shortcomings, but who doesn’t? Molly loves him no matter what. We all do.”

“I wish he wouldn’t blame himself for what happened as children,” he sighed. “Tell him I said it’s not his fault.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” she told him. “Wish me luck, Victor.”

* * *

 

Though exhausted, Sherlock found himself at Molly’s door ready to explain everything. He doubted he’d even get the chance to, but it was worth a try. After he knocked twice, she opened up and took in his haggard appearance.

“Molly, I’m so sorry,” he cried, holding her to him. “My sister, she…I do love you, I promise you that I wasn’t lying.”

“Sister? Sherlock, what are you talking about?” she asked.

“I’ll explain everything…may I come in?” he asked. She nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to pass. They sat on her sofa as he explained everything from Victor to Sherrinford. Afterward, Sherlock allowed himself to take in the state of her appearance.

Molly’s eyes were red and puffy, and by the smell of her breath as she exhaled, she had not been able to withhold the contents of her stomach. _Her stomach._ Without the addition of her jumper, he saw the small baby bump. It wasn’t hard to figure out who’s child this was. The bump was only slight, as it had only been a month since his birthday.

“Sherlock?” she called out to him, trying to get him out of his thoughts. Molly had been having a bad day, not because she found out she was pregnant, but because she was terrified of how he would react. And now she knew he had figured it out from the look on his face.

“You’re—“ was all he could muster. He looked so scared. “I’m sorry, Molly. It’s all my fault. I’m no good for you or this child.” She reached out to take his hand but instead he backed away, lost in his mind again.

“Sherlock, please come back,” Molly pleaded. “We’ll talk and have tea.” Sherlock didn’t hear a word she said as he began to walk away, still facing her. It wasn’t long before he went out the door and broke into a run, hurting her further. He felt that he wouldn’t be a good enough father. God, he didn’t even patch things up completely with Molly and now he was to be expecting a child with her.

Meanwhile, Molly had expected him to be scared and run. She knew he’d come back, as it wasn’t in his nature to be so uncaring. It hurt, but this was Sherlock; it was to be expected. After shooting off a text to Mycroft, letting him know it was a danger night, Molly went back inside. She just prayed he would be alright.

* * *

 

“Sherlock, you okay? You don’t look so good,” Anderson remarked when the consulting detective actually sat at the bar. He had promised no more drugs, so the next available poison was at least legal.

“Go away Anderson,” he sighed in defeat.

“Look, I know you don’t like me that much, but I’m worried about you,” he told him. “What’s got you down?”

“Everything,” Sherlock replied curtly. He felt the alcohol take effect after a half hour. Despite the fact it made him show his emotions more, he didn’t care. By the time he consumed three glasses, there were tears in his eyes. “I’m not a praying man, but if there is a deity overlooking all of mankind, I need help, please.” These words were spoken quietly so no one else could overhear. Sally Donovan entered the pub not long after, spotting him immediately.

“Ugh, come to ruin everyone’s night by deducing them to tears? Nobody wants you here, freak,” Sally remarked. If there was one person he never had time for, it was her.

He left the pub, making his way through the city until he approached the bridge he had once walked with Eurus disguised as Faith. It felt a little too inviting to him as he approached the railing and peered over the edge. _Your life is not your own_. The words he had spoken to her rang in his mind once again. Nobody would miss him was all he could think. In this case, his life was his own, at least in his eyes. And that’s when Mary literally jumped back into his life, tossing herself over the bridge and into the water, calling out for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really heavy stuff here, and I cried writing it.


	3. In a Different World...

Sherlock wasted no time, shedding off his belstaff and scarf to dive in after the woman who was drowning—or so he thought. He didn’t have a good look at her until they reached land.

“Mary!?” he questioned, his brows furrowing. “Great, now I’m hallucinating.”

“Sherlock,” she laughed, “I promise you’re not. I’m your guardian angel—well, yours, John’s and Rosie’s.”

“Right,” he rolled his eyes. “Angels don’t exist.”

“Oh, Sherlock, you and I both know that isn’t true,” she replied. “Didn’t you once tell Moriarty that you’re on the side of the angels?” Now, he was listening. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need help, Mary,” he sighed.

“Oh, really? So you’re saying you wouldn’t have ended your life had I not jumped in ahead of you?” she asked. “I know when you’re fibbing, Sherlock.”

“Alright, fine!” he exclaimed. “So what if I would have? Your death is on my hands, Mary, regardless of it being your choice to take that bullet for me. If I hadn’t instigated Norbury, you’d still be alive.”

“You can’t think like that, Sherlock,” she told him. “My death is not on your hands. John was wrong to blame you. I took that bullet for you because that whole situation was my mess. I brought that danger to your lives, and if my death brought it to justice and kept you alive, then it wasn’t for nothing.”

“If you never met me, you’d still be alive, Mary. If I didn’t exist, everyone would be better off, don’t you deny it,”

 “You may be clever, but you don’t know a damn thing about how this world would be without you,” she scolded him. Mary knew where this was going.

“I wish I had never been born,” he spoke solemnly.

“Well, alright then,” she shrugged. “You’ve never been born.”

“Don’t toy with me, Mary,” he replied.

“I’m not. Go and see for yourself how everyone’s lives would have fared without you,” she encouraged. “Who would you like to see first?” Sherlock only grunted in response. “Alright, I’ll be a little selfish…let’s see John, shall we?” The two of them appeared at Bart’s, leaving Sherlock to be clueless for once. They watched from afar as John entered his office, cane in hand with his psychosomatic limp.

“For God’s sake, he has the mustache again,” Sherlock complained.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Mary couldn’t help but giggle. “Because you never met John, he went back to a dull routine. Never cured that limp of his either. He never met me because you never faked your death…you weren’t there to fake it. And so—“

“He never met you and Rosie was never born,” Sherlock finished. He couldn’t think of a world robbed of Rosie’s presence.

“Did you have an appointment?” John asked suddenly, approaching them. “Sonogram, perhaps?”

“Oh, goodness no!” Mary replied.

“John, don’t you know who I am?” Sherlock asked.

“Can’t say that I do, sorry,” he answered. “So, you’re not here for an appointment?” They both shook their heads and John turned to walk away.

“He doesn’t know me at all.” Sherlock now knew that his wish had been granted, but now he wasn’t so sure it was clever of him. “So, where are you? At the surgery?” She never answered, but instead they appeared in a cemetery. It was cold and foggy, but the chills did not come from the temperature when he looked down to see the gravestone in front of them.

_Here Lies_

_Rosamund Mary Morstan_

“Dead,” she told him. “Either way, with or without you, I’m dead. I shot Magnussen and Norbury hunted me down. See? It wasn’t your fault.” Sherlock finally saw the light being shed on that subject. Mary’s death truly wasn’t his fault.

“No, it wasn’t,” he realized. “I’m sorry, Mary.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she replied. “It was my past that caught up to me. I wasn’t about to let you die because of the mistakes I made. With or without your instigation, I died. It’s what was meant to be, Sherlock.”

“I see that now,” he confirmed.

 “We should visit Greg next,” Mary suggested. “What say you?”

“Let me guess, many murders went unsolved because he didn’t have me to consult with?” Sherlock asked with snark.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it…come along,” she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts so far? Sherlock's starting to see the light.


	4. Hope and Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all don’t mind that I’m basically posting this whole fic in one day lol!

They appeared in a pub where Greg was drinking away his sorrows. He looked haggard and defeated. From the looks of it, Sherlock deduced he had been kicked out from his home by his adulterous wife.

“Not only did many murders go unsolved without your expertise, but Greg lost his job for being ‘incompetent.’ His boss’s words, not mine. His wife was still cheating on him, yes, but he had been kicked out just tonight and can’t find any place to go,” Mary explained.

“Why not? There’s J—“ Sherlock stopped short, realizing that without him, Greg would’ve never met John. He felt awful for his friend.

“Hey you,” Greg spoke, pointing at him. “Have you ever been married?”

“Married to my work, but to another person? No,” Sherlock replied, “but I have thought a great deal about marrying my Molly.”

“Make sure this Molly of yours is worth it,” he told him.

“She’s more than worth it,” Sherlock admitted. “Nobody understands me like she does or has the same kind of humor. I’m always happier around her and we’ve been through a lot together. And yet, after all the mistakes I made, she still loves me.”

“Then I say, marry her,” Greg remarked. “And this is coming from a bloke whose wife has been cheating on him.”

“I’m not good enough for her,” he said sadly.

“Mate, let me be the first to tell you how wrong you are. So, you’ve made some big mistakes, but she’s forgiven you and you’ve worked through it, right?” asked Greg. Sherlock nodded. “The fact you owned up to them says a lot about your character. It’s not that she deserves better than you…it’s that she deserves the best version of you.” Realization dawned on him thanks to Greg’s insight. No matter which world he was in, Greg was wiser than he ever gave him credit for. Sherlock left and went outside where Mary was waiting.

“Feeling better, yet?” she asked.

“A little, but still, I’m sure Mycroft has fared well in a world where I don’t exist.”

“Do you really think that?” Mary asked. “Come now, there is more to see.”

They were at Musgrave Hall, years before it was burnt to the ground. “We traveled into the past a bit to see how your siblings’ childhoods would’ve been like without you, as well as your parents.” Eurus was being hauled away by Uncle Rudy after all; even without Sherlock’s existence.

“She never killed Victor or burned down Musgrave Hall,” Sherlock pointed out.

“No, but you had been Victor’s only friend. Now he feels so alone without you. Later on, he will be one of Moriarty’s victims. I talked to Victor before coming down here. He wanted me to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

“You spoke to him?” he asked in surprise.

“I did indeed,” she replied. “He’s okay and he just wants you to be okay again too.” They watched as his parents stood by, scared out of their minds, his mother crying. “Your parents were terrified as to what to do when Eurus attempted to burn the house down and nearly stabbed Mycroft with scissors. And over there, Mycroft is alone and afraid, himself. He’s lost his only sibling and shut himself away from the world, also breaking your parents’ hearts.”

“He looks so sad,” he remarked. The young Mycroft was approaching them and began to speak, tugging on Sherlock’s jacket.

“Will you be my brother?” young Mycroft asked. “I’ve got nobody left.” There were tears welling up in his eyes.

“What about your parents?” asked Sherlock.

“They’re too in shock to pay any attention to me,” he answered.

“I promise I’ll find a way to be your brother,” Sherlock told him. Again was the unspoken word at the end of that sentence.

“I can’t see him like this, Mary,” Sherlock told her. “Show me how he is now.” They appeared outside the dining room window of Musgrave Hall and Mycroft was eating cake. He had not attempted to diet, uncaring of his appearance so long as he could eat the feelings he hid away.

“He doesn’t work in government in this world without you,” Mary informed him. “He mainly worked his way up that high so he could keep a protective eye on you. There is no Anthea to keep him managed and eventually fall in love with, and there is no happiness. Eurus is currently dead, since he never could keep an eye on Sherrinford. Cruel treatments were performed on her.”

“And my parents?” Sherlock asked.

“Already passed on,” Mary replied. “Murdered, in fact, by James Moriarty. They were attending Les Mis in the city and he had his right hand man release poisonous gas through the theatre. Moriarty still lives, and gets away with murder every year. His web is still around because you couldn’t possibly take it down if you didn’t exist.” Sherlock’s heart was breaking more each time they visited a new person. He could hardly take the pain his selfish wish caused for everyone.

“What of Mrs. Hudson?” he asked.

“Oh, well, she is not in London,” Mary told him. “You were never there to help her get her husband put in prison, so he’s still a free man. She tried running from him on several occasions, but could never escape.” This was looking more bleak by the minute. And then finally…

“Where’s Molly?”


	5. All Hearts are Broken

“What is this place? This isn’t Molly’s flat,” Sherlock told her.

“No, but it is the house she lives in with her husband, Tom,” Mary told him. “She still meets him through Meena, but it is not a happy marriage.”

“Is she still the head pathologist?” he asked.

“She’s a pathologist; not in charge and often belittled by the man who is,” she replied. “You weren’t there to request her immediate promotion, nor was Mycroft in the position to make it happen.” A shattering sound made him jump and he peered through the window to see that Tom had thrown a plate at the wall behind Molly. They were shouting at each other—him in rage and her in tears. He watched as she tried to run out, but Tom took hold of her wrist and tugged until she finally broke free. When she appeared outside, Mary was nowhere to be found.

“Saw that, did you?” Molly asked, rubbing her arm nervously.

“I—Are you alright?” he questioned, his voice breaking.

“Not really,” she told him. “Suppose it’s what I get for dreaming of a wonderful life, filled with love and family. It’s not always the fairytale you deserve, but it’s something. Out for a stroll then?” He watched as she took out a cigarette and lit it. His Molly never smoked, but Tom’s Molly did.

“Those things will kill you,” he told her.

“You sound like my mother,” she laughed. “She used to tell my father the same thing.” A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “This seems so strange, but I feel like I can trust you.”

“Not strange at all,” he replied. “Does he treat you like that often?”

“Who, Tom? Not always, but when he gets pissed, it can be dangerous. It’s why I refuse to have children with him,” she explained, puffing on her cigarette. “I’d leave him, but my hours have been cut back recently and I can’t afford a divorce right now. There’s this movie where the thirteen year old girl wishes she was thirty and she gets everything she once wanted but realizes it’s not at all what she wants. There’s a line that’s like, ‘you don’t always get the dream house, but you come pretty close.’ That’s how it is with me. You know, I've always wanted a bit more adventure in my life but he's a terrible stick in the mud. I settled even though I really shouldn’t have.”  

“You deserve better than this,” he nearly cried. “I get it now. Why didn’t I see it before? What have I done?”

“Hey, are you alright?” she inquired.

“Molly Hooper, how did I not see?” he groaned.

“H—How do you know my name? Who are you?” she was afraid now.

“Molly, please, don’t you know who I am? It’s me, Sherlock,” he rambled. “I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. We’re to have a child together and I mucked it all up. God, I was so terrible to run like that, but I was afraid—so afraid.” He took her hand in his and she screamed, pushing him away. He was crying now, watching as she ran back inside to the man she unhappily married.

Mary reappeared and watched from afar, listening to Sherlock’s ranting.

“Sorry, Sherlock, but this was for your own good,” she muttered to herself.

“I’ve been a fool,” he said to himself. “I lost everyone and they never knew me. Moriarty’s still killing and Molly’s falling to pieces. How could I be so damn selfish to wish I never existed?” Sherlock wandered throughout London in a daze, his heart broken. He missed his friends, his family, his Molly. He wanted nothing more than to marry her and raise their baby together. He loved her so much, his heart was aching.

“Come on, Sherlock, say the magic words, love,” Mary urged quietly from afar.

“Doesn’t anybody know who I am!?” he shouted.

“A freak,” Sally Donovan walked by him at that moment.

“I am a freak, aren’t I?” he half-laughed. “At least you haven’t changed.” She slowly backed away from him as if he were deranged. “Mary!? I can’t do this any longer. Please tell me this can be reversed! I wanna live! I don’t want to die, please, I just want to live and be with the people I love!”

“Bingo,” Mary smirked. Sherlock was on the sidewalk now, praying for his life. He knew now that someone was listening and hoped against all odds that he could live again. She disappeared, as her job was finished.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft’s voice sounded, his hand on his little brother’s back.

“Mycro—Mycroft?” he asked, lifting his head. “You know who I am?”

“Well, of course I know who you are,” the elder Holmes replied. “What kind of drugs have you taken now?” Sherlock jumped up, overjoyed that everything was back to normal, hugging his brother.

“Where’s Molly? I need to see Molly,” he spoke urgently.

“Relax, she’s at home and phoned me sick with worry about you,” Mycroft informed him.

“I need to see her! I love her, Mycroft, truly I do.” Sherlock was running off in the direction of her flat. “I’m going to be a father!”

“Sherlock, are you high?” Mycroft asked in concern, running after him, confused with his brother’s behaviour.

“Natural high, I assure you,” he replied. “I’m just glad to be alive!” He sang it just as he did when he returned from his four minute exile. “I’m off to Molly’s, I must go now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we are finally back in a world where Sherlock exists! How heartbreaking was Molly's life without Sherlock?


	6. Finally Home

 Molly had been curled up on the sofa, eating a pint of chunky monkey ice cream and watching crap telly when a knock sounded at her door. She got up to open it and immediately felt Sherlock’s arms wrap around her.

“Oh, Molly,” he cried happily. “I’m so sorry, darling. I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I love you so much. I was so afraid of being a rubbish father and a rubbish husband, I made such a selfish wish, but I’m back now. It’ll be alright—I’ll make it alright again. I promise you.”

“Sherlock, I—“ her words died on her lips when he kissed her fervently. He sprinkled kisses all over her face, ending in another warm embrace, their cheeks pressed together as he whispered I love yous in her ear. “Look at me.” He did as he was told. “I love you too, you silly man. You’re alright. It’s all okay. But I have one question…”

“What?” he asked.

“Did you say husband just then? Because in case you haven’t noticed, you never actually proposed,” she laughed. Then they were both laughing.

“I had wanted to propose to you the minute I was back in London from taking down Moriarty’s network,” he confessed, “but you were engaged and things kept getting worse what with Magnussen and Mary’s death and Culverton Smith.” He watched her wipe a tear from her cheek. “I’ll tell you what…” –he dropped down to his knees, cradling her waist with his hands and pressing kisses to her tummy—“Marry me, Molly Hooper. I want nothing more than to make you the happiest woman who ever lived. I want to share your burdens and ease your pain. I want to take care of you and love you for the rest of your life. I want to give myself to you in every way possible. I am yours—I always have been and I always will be.”

“Yes,” she half-cried, slowly dropping down to her knees and kissing him. “But let’s be engaged for a while, shall we? There’s no need to rush into this.”

“I agree,” he smiled. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock,” she assured him. “We’re gonna be just fine. Now, why don’t we slow down a bit, alright? Come in and we’ll talk…you’ve had so many shocks tonight, I’m surprised you aren’t exhausted.”

“I’m running on a high that is only caused by feeling alive,” he told her. “I’m sure to crash soon and things will catch up to me tomorrow, but I know I’ll have you to turn to.”

“You’ll always have me,” she told him, shutting the door behind them. “I was so worried about you. I would’ve searched for you myself, but I’ve been so drained all day.”

“That’s alright,” he replied. “You need to put our baby first.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s such a huge undertaking to have a baby, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. Oh, and of course you’ve been emotionally compromised; I’m surprised you’re not as overwhelmed.”

“As of right now, nothing is more important to me than family, Molly. Whether you realize it or not, you are my family. We’re going to have one of our own. I know it won’t be easy and I’m terrified, but I truly believe we can do this; that I can do this. I want this,” he explained. “I see my life in a different light now—I’d tell you why, but I’m not sure you’d believe me. Hell, I don’t know if I believe me, but it was eye-opening.”

“Will you tell me about it sometime? When you’re ready?” she asked.

“When I’m ready,” he confirmed.

* * *

 

Molly was curled up against him in bed, perfectly content. Their lips were pressed together, drawing out slow, lingering kisses. Sherlock had one hand in her hair and the other caressing her slightly swollen belly. He smiled beautifully at her when she nuzzled her nose against his, encouraging him to kiss her more. They had a love that consumed them in the best way with both feeling safe in each other’s arms. She hummed softly when he traced shapes on her tummy.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Sherlock,” she replied, laying her head on his chest.

“And I love you, my little ginger nut,” he spoke to their unborn child.

“Ginger nut?” she laughed. “You’re a ginger nut!” They were laughing together, enjoying their little slice of contentment before the reality of everything hit them the next day. No matter what, they’d get through it together. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even after editing this chapter 3 times, I'm still not sure if I'm satisfied with it.  
> There will be an epilogue, so stay tuned!


	7. Epilogue

They had been married when Molly was four months pregnant. She wore a beautiful, flowing off-the-shoulder dress that accentuated her bump perfectly. They had written their own vows, spoken in front of their friends and family. Both the ceremony and the reception were held in the beautiful backyard garden of his parents’ home. Sherlock had gone back to rehab along with resuming his therapy sessions, which helped a great deal.

Charlotte Rosemary Holmes and Victor Hamish Holmes were born in October. Everyone had mercilessly teased Sherlock when he used to say that it was never twins, but here he and Molly had the two most beautiful babies he’d ever seen. A little over two months passed and it was Christmastime. Their children were finally asleep whilst their parents enjoyed some alone time together in the sitting room.

“Do you. Have any. Idea. How much. I love you,” he murmured in between kisses.

“Mm,” she moaned against his lips that were now trailing down her neck. “If it comes close to how much I love you, I think I get the gist.”

“I love you, Molly Holmes,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh, Sherlock, I love you too, my sweet husband,” she smiled.

* * *

 

Christmas morning came around and John and Rosie were there at 221B to celebrate. Sherlock and Molly had opened the gift brought by him for the twins. It was a reindeer with a deerstalker on its head and it had a jinglebell necklace around its neck.

“Oh, this is precious, thank you,” Molly cooed, the bells jingling as she handed it to Sherlock to look at.

“Rosie picked it out,” John told them, the bells still ringing.

“Mhm,” she smiled. “Unca Sherlock, did you know every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings?” This really caught his attention.

“Do they?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“Momma said she gots her wings!” she exclaimed. “She helped you!” He looked around, and was the only one who could see Mary smiling behind her daughter. His eyes met hers as he spoke.

“She did help me,” he admitted. “In many ways.” John was shocked to say the least at Sherlock’s response, but Molly knew the truth of what had happened that night. Her heart broke for him when he told her what he was nearly driven to do. He had then proceeded to cry, telling her how sorry he was about nearly leaving her and their children alone. She had hugged him tightly, telling him how glad she was that he was alive.

“Thank you, Mary,” Molly whispered to herself.

* * *

 

It was evening and the babies were both playing with the reindeer happily. Sherlock watched over them whilst Molly baked ginger nuts in the kitchen. He had helped her with dinner earlier, which turned out to be delicious. John and Rosie had left soon after. Charlotte released the plush from her grip, surrendering it to Victor, in favor of latching onto Sherlock’s finger. He was in awe of them, still unable to believe that these were his and Molly’s children.

“My little ginger nuts,” he smiled. “You both know I love you, right? Well, I do. I love you and your mummy more than anything. I know I probably won’t be a perfect father, but I’m going to give it my best. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“You’re a wonderful father, Sherlock,” Molly told him. She pressed her lips to his chastely and wrapped her arms around him. “And you’re a wonderful husband.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked her.

“Everything,” she simply replied. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I’ll love you til the day I die and even then, I’ll still love you.” He captured her lips with his, passionately snogging her senselessly. Did she realize how happy she made him? How loved he felt by her?

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he spoke softly.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

* * *

Molly's Wedding Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! Did you catch the 3 references to It's a Wonderful Life?


End file.
